Happy Birthday to Me
by TheLostMaximoff
Summary: A very serious look at the Maximoff twins on their eighteenth birthday.
1. Going the Distance

Happy Birthday to Me

By The LostMaximoff

Disclaimer: Don't own this stuff. I was going to wait until my birthday, which is in a month by the way, to put this one out but I thought why the heck not. This is a two-shot. The first one is Pietro and the second one will obviously be Wanda. I should have the second part up soon. Enjoy and R/R.

Pietro Maximoff should've been happy. It was his eighteenth birthday after all and for the first time in a long time he could celebrate it with his sister again. He supposed he was happy in a way, as happy as someone like him could be.

"Toad," he said, "I know you're in a festive mood and all but could ya cut it out with those noisemakers?" There was no reply from Toad save a loud, high-pitched whine from his noisemaker.

"I'm celebratin', yo," said Toad, "This year we got two birthdays in one." Pietro sighed. Wanda had missed last year since she had still been in the asylum. Pietro tried not to think about it as he stared at the cake Freddy had made. Half of it was chocolate with red icing and the other half was regular cake with silver icing.

"Cake looks good, Blob," he said, "I'm surprised you left some for us."

"Ha ha," replied Freddy as he blushed, "C'mon, already. I'm hungry, let's have some cake."

"You haven't opened my present yet, dear brother," said Wanda to Pietro. Pietro looked over to the other gifts he'd already received: new sneakers from Toad and some cologne from Lance. Freddy didn't have much money so the cake was his present to both of them.

"Are you sure?" asked Pietro, "Might wanna look again." Wanda blinked and the wrapping paper was suddenly off the box. Pietro took out the picture frame inside the box and almost cried. It was a beautiful silver frame but it was the picture that made him choke. It was a family picture of all of them: him, Wanda, his father, and his birth mother.

"Father supplied the picture," explained Wanda, "That's his present too."

"It's beautiful," replied Pietro as he touched the picture and ran his hand along the frame, "Thank you, sis."

"Dad will be by here tomorrow," said Wanda, "You can thank him too. He said she would be very proud of you." Pietro nodded absently as he stared at the picture. Suddenly he got up and headed for the door.

"There's something I have to do," he said, "It won't take long." The rest of the boys nodded. They all understood except for Wanda.

"What about the cake?" she asked, "You're not going to have the first piece with me?"

"I'll be back soon," assured Pietro, "Save me some of my half. I won't be gone long." With that, he was gone. Wanda turned to see the rest of the boys eyeing the cake. Why weren't they concerned?

"He does this every year," explained Lance as he saw the look on Wanda's face, "He'll be back soon."

"How come I don't remember him doing it last year," asked Wanda, "and how do you know about it? We didn't come here till after our birthday last year."

"No, it was before," said Lance, thinking quickly to try and curb Wanda's temper, "You just had that accident, remember, and your memory's not very good. Isn't that right, guys?" Freddy and Toad both nodded furiously to try to divert Wanda's train of thought.

"Yeah, yeah," replied Toad nervously, "He'll be okay, sweetie. Come on, have some cake. It looks yummy." Wanda shook her head to clear it and then sighed. Pietro could take care of himself. He was, after all, an adult now.

XXXXX

It didn't take him long to cross the ocean and find the spot in Germany. It took him longer last time but that had been five years ago, five years ago to the exact day. He could never forget where it was and that was one of the reasons behind his little birthday ritual. He told the other boys he did it even though he neglected to mention what it was he actually did. They knew enough to understand that he had to be alone sometimes and that he didn't want to talk about it.

"Mom," he said as he knelt beside the marker and replaced the dead flowers from five years ago with the new ones he had bought before he left the States. He traced the lettering on the marble marker. Magda Lehnsherr.

"I'm sorry it's been so long," he said as he looked at the tombstone, "but none of the other birthdays felt special enough. They weren't important enough for you, Mom. This one is though. I'm a man now . . . an adult. I wanted to run this one for you, this very special birthday run." He crouched beside the marker in a runner's stance. It was the same every year. He would pick a spot, a special spot where memories, both good and bad, still burned inside him. He would use that spot as a marker and would run laps around the world equal to how old he was at that point. This year the burial ground of his mother was his spot.

"Eighteen laps for you, Mom," he whispered, "Hope you're still watching. 1, 2, 3, go!" In a fraction of a second, Pietro Maximoff had left the normal world and drifted into a surreal other one that only he could know about. To the world, he was moving fast but to him it was as if the world barely moved at all. He could see everything crystal clear as he whooshed by. That was how he knew when to stop. He could always tell when he passed his spot.

XXXXX

Sometimes I wonder why I started doing this five years ago. I guess it's tradition or something. It really all depends on the spot. I made a list of all the places where my life had changed and put them in chronological order. I add new ones when I feel like they're special enough. Every year on the day before my birthday, I pick one from the list for one reason or another and use it as my spot to run my laps.

One. Two.

Why do I do it, Mom? Well, like I said it depends on the spot and the memories attached to it. If it has to do with Father, like the orphanage where he first gave us away or the house where we used to live when we were in America, it's to show him in my own way that I don't need him anymore. I know it sounds bad, Mom, and I'm sorry but it's true. I needed him once but he never cared back then. Now he thinks he can make up for it but I don't need his help anymore. I don't need his training, his rules, his stupid attempts to make up for being cold to me. I'm an adult now, Mom. I'm running eighteen laps around the freakin' world.

Three. Four.

If the spot has to do with my friends, like the Brotherhood house or the basketball court where Daniels and I used to shoot hoops, I do it to feel alive. You can't imagine what it's like, Mom. When I run, nothing can catch me. I'm free with no worries or pain. The hurt can't catch me when I run and next to the time I spend with my friends it's the most intense state of happiness I can imagine.

Five. Six.

These kinds of times are different though. Times like this year, last year when I did it in front of the asylum where they kept Wanda, and the year before last when I ran outside the village where Django and Marya used to live, I do it to remember the people I miss so very much. I was lucky last year because Wanda came back. I wish you would come back too then maybe everything would go back to the way it was. Maybe we could be a family again.

Seven. Eight.

Do you still watch us, Mom? I wish you didn't. It must hurt to see how much we've all changed. It must hurt to watch us do the things to each other that we've done. Did you see the picture Wanda gave me? You looked so happy in it. We all did. I'm so sorry we couldn't be a good family.

Nine. Ten.

I never forgot what you looked like. I have Wanda to remind me. Dad sees it too. I can tell that every time he looks at Wanda he sees you. She's the lucky one because she looks like you instead of looking like Dad like I do. I'm sorry, Mom, but it's true. Dad changed so much after you died. He gave away his own children. It was okay though, Mom. You would've liked the Maximoffs. It sounds bad but sometimes I think they were our real mom and dad. That's why my last name's not Lehnsherr. I'm sorry about that.

Eleven. Twelve.

Do you hate me, Mom? You must. I hate myself too. Dad says you would be proud of me. Would you? Would you be proud of how I stood there and let those evil people take away your daughter? Would you be proud of how I let my father wipe her memories away? How could you be when even I'm not proud of it? How could you still love me when I don't love myself?

Thirteen. Fourteen.

It sounds cruel but I wish I had never saved Dad from that Sentinel. I don't even know why I did it in the first place. He deserved to die but I couldn't let it happen. Was that you, Mom? Were you the one who made me save Dad? Did you know what would happen? I'm so sorry, Mom. Your little boy's turned into such an awful person. You wouldn't even recognize Wanda either. Even she really doesn't know who she is. It's not her fault though. That one belongs to me and Dad. We made her that way. We killed the last link to you we had. You must hate us. Why wouldn't you?

Fifteen. Sixteen.

It kills me, Mom. No matter how fast I run I can't shake the pain. No matter what, I can't escape what I've done, what I've let happen to my family. No matter how hard I try, I can't bring you or Django or Marya back. The only thing I can do is force myself not to forget you. This year hurts the worst, Mom. I miss you so much and I'm so sorry things turned out this way. It's not fair that we have to hurt you by hurting each other. It's not fair that you have to watch us rip our family apart.

Seventeen. Eighteen. Done.

I stop and fall down beside the marker. I'm done running but my tears have only started their laps. They want to run an extra lap for you, Mom. Just like me, they're running for you. I hope you can see how sorry I am. I hope you're still watching over us. I love you, Mom.

Author's Note: Stay tuned, kiddies. Wanda's chapter should be up soon.


	2. Home Sweet Home

Happy Birthday to Me (Part Two)

By TheLostMaximoff

Disclaimer: I still don't own this stuff. This one's pretty freaky but it's Wanda so what would you suspect? This part might push the PG-13 rating so don't be surprised if it gets bumped up to R. Anyways, R/R.

She felt restless. Wanda Maximoff didn't know why but she felt something nagging at her. There was something she had to do. She couldn't imagine what it could be. She pulled off her headphones and hit stop on her player. Much as she wanted to keep listening to the Evanescence CD Toad had given her for her birthday there was something more important. She just couldn't figure out what. She was missing something, a gift from someone. She ran through the list. CD from Toad, birthday cake from Freddy, locket from Pietro that also included a picture of him inside, pair of ruby earrings from Lance, and a necklace from Father. That was it wasn't it? Someone had been left out.

"Is Pietro back yet?" she asked as she came down the stairs.

"Naw, he's still out," replied Freddy as he and Toad were watching TV. Pietro had left earlier to do something very important. Wanda stared off into space. Suddenly she felt herself move to the door.

"I'm going out for awhile," she said absently. Freddy nodded and continued munching some potato chips. Toad, however, was a little more wary.

"I'll come with ya," he volunteered. Wanda shook her head. For some reason she wanted to be alone. She put on her coat and went out the door. Toad was about to return to the TV when he heard thunder.

"Storm's comin'," said Freddy, "Wouldn't wanna be out in it."

"I gotta go see about Wanda," said Toad as he hopped to the door, "Hey, remember if the Braves win you owe me ten bucks." Freddy nodded as Toad ran out the door to make sure Wanda was alright.

XXXXX

She stared at the foreboding structure defiantly as if daring it to make her angry. Wanda didn't know why she'd come to this place. She certainly hadn't been here before, had she? It seemed familiar, too familiar.

"Uhm, cupcake?" asked Toad, "What're we doin' here?" Wanda whirled around and growled in frustration. She didn't want anyone around her.

"I told you I don't need a chaperone," she replied, "I'm a big girl now."

"I know," replied Toad, "You're eighteen now but it's gonna storm soon and you don't need to be out here alone in the rain." Alone in the rain. She let that phrase bounce around inside her head. Why did that mean something?

"Well," she said, "Make yourself useful then and do what I tell you to." Toad gulped. She wasn't planning on going in there, was she? She couldn't go in there, anywhere but there.

"What're you doing?" asked Toad. Wanda shook her head as if to clear it.

"I don't know," she replied, "but something's in there that I want to see. Something's in there that I need, a late birthday present." Toad gulped again. She was standing right in front of the asylum she'd forgotten. It was the same one she had been in all those years.

"Keep quiet," ordered Wanda as she raised her hands. Instantly, everything electronic on the grounds and inside the building shut down. Wanda and Toad crept from the shadows along the side of the building.

"Guard," whispered Toad as he peeked around the corner. Wanda nodded and looked around for something she could use to knock him out with. She waited until his back was turned then came out and hex-blasted him into a wall.

"Grab his keys," ordered Wanda. Toad's tongue shot out and snatched the key ring from the guard's belt. The two crept inside with Wanda leading the way up the stairs. How did she know where she was going? She'd never been here before.

"Where we goin'?" asked Toad in a whisper as Wanda came to the top of the stairs. She had no clue. Something was drawing her into this place. What was it and why were images flashing through her mind? Lightning briefly illuminated the room. There were no guards in the hallway. Why?

"Lock the door behind you," she ordered as she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. She had to fight to breathe. Images flashed in her mind. Straightjackets, sharp syringes full of bad medicine, pain, torture. She heaved a sob as she walked down the row of cells. Why was she here? Why was she seeing these things?

"Here," she said as she suddenly stopped. Toad almost bumped into her. She stared at the door. It was so familiar. This was where she had been kept. This wing was empty now. Only the worst of the worst stayed here. Only monsters were kept here.

"Open the door," she told Toad.

"Sweetie, I don't. . .." began Toad but Wanda hexed his mouth shut. She hadn't asked for his opinion. Toad opened the door and she stepped inside. The walls. So close, so tight. Always closing in, always keeping her in.

"Why?" she asked herself. Another jagged arc of lightning split the sky. Rain was pouring now. The rain, oh God the rain. She never liked rain. Why not? It was just water, it couldn't hurt her. That was a job for other things. What other things? She wasn't sure.

"Toad," she said as she released the hex on his mouth, "You have to do something for me."

"Wanda, I don't think you should be here," replied Toad in a concerned tone. That was funny, Wanda thought the same thing. Well, at least part of her did.

"Toad," she whispered, "I want you to stay outside and lock me in here by myself."

"But, cuddles," said Toad, "Why?"

"I don't know yet," replied Wanda truthfully. There was something about this place that called to her. She didn't know why but she felt as though she belonged here.

"Just do it," she ordered, "and no matter what don't let me out unless things get real bad. I mean seriously bad." Toad opened his mouth to object but Wanda glared at him. He said nothing and closed the door on his way out. Wanda heard the eerily familiar sound of the bolt sliding into place. Where had she heard it before? In here? Had she been in here before? Yes, that was why she suddenly felt at peace. That was why she felt as if she'd come home.

XXXXX

Toad couldn't remember a time when he was more nervous. Not even final exams made him feel this bad. She was in there, the same cell where they used to keep her. Magneto was going to roast him alive if she remembered but he was more afraid of her than him. He was afraid that she would get angry again, go into that psychotic rage state where she couldn't control herself. He nervously scanned the dark hallway. How could his beautiful Wanda ever survive in a place like this?

XXXXX

It had been a long time, hadn't it? A long time since when? She couldn't remember. That seemed to be a recurring pattern these days. Wanda traced the bricks with her fingernails. The window. There was something outside. Rain and . . . something else. A crack of lightning flashed. Wanda swore she heard a car pull away. His car, their car. Whose car? Someone she once trusted with her life but had betrayed her and left her alone in the rain.

_'Father!__ Don't' leave me!'_ Where had that thought come from? Father? No, he would never leave her.

"Father," she whispered and turned away from the window. There were other attractions on this tour of Hell. Wanda felt so strange, as if she were reliving someone else's life as her own. Why?

The bed. She sat on it and put her head in her hands. The bed, leather straps so tight they took away her breath. Pain in her arm, a sting of a needle and then everything spun in a haze. Tears, crying, then blackness. Nothing, nothing. Down, down, down.

"Stop it," she cried as she clutched her head, "No, no more hurt. Please stop." There was no relief, there never had been. No escape. She looked down at the sheets. Bloodstains. Her blood? Last year's birthday present. She had gotten her hands on some glass, how she didn't know. She cut herself to make sure she could still feel. It was her only birthday present. Everyone else had forgotten about her.

"No," she said, "I was with Father last year, wasn't I? He took us to the carnival." Didn't he do that? What did he give her? Why could she remember this self-mutilation more clearly? The walls closed in again. There were other things in here now with her. Ghosts, demons, monsters. Not just things that went bump in the night. These things ate things that went bump in the night for breakfast. These were the things that made you wake up screaming in a cold sweat. This building was the epitome of every nightmare she had ever had. She screamed a blood-curdling howl and curled up in a corner, her corner. They couldn't get her there.

XXXXX

Toad nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Wanda scream. He realized he should open the door but he was scared of what he would find on the other side. Would he find Wanda or an animal? He looked back to the end of the hall. He heard footsteps coming fast. They had to leave soon.

XXXXX

Electro-shock, God she hated it. When had she ever felt it? She felt it now, the thrill of man-made lightning coursing through her veins. The sadistic tickle in her nerves. The smell of ozone. There was a chemical smell too. The smell of chlorpromazine as it shot through her blood. Bars, cage, she was an animal. God, how could she have ever experienced this?

She wanted to escape but she couldn't. No, wait. Her hands weren't tied this time. This time? She didn't care anymore. She pointed and the entire outside wall blew out. Bricks, iron, it all rained down while the rain poured in. The rain on her skin. _'Father, don't leave me!'_ That night, the rain.

Alarms flashed. She had forgotten about maintaining the hex on the security systems. Red lights, spiral, flash, danger. Suddenly everything in the room exploded. The door opened. Enemy, fiend, one of them. No, it was Toad. The rule, the rule she had learned. Learned when? Anyone who came through the door was bad, evil, cruel. They were a liar, deceiver, tempter with the apple of freedom. Freedom from what? No, this was just Toad. Enemy. Toad. She raised her hand to blast him. They could no longer cage her.

XXXXX

Toad was officially freaked out now. He knew they had to get out. He opened the door and almost got himself killed. Wanda had that look in her eye, that murderous gleam. She was about to blast him, probably kill him. She hesitated for a second and her face turned to shock.

"Toad, I. . .." she struggled. He didn't wait to see what happened next. He spat a small glob of slime in her eyes and prayed she would understand. She was stunned and he grabbed her. He jumped through the hole she had made and out into the rain. He hit the ground and rolled into some bushes. It wasn't the best landing ever.

"Wanda?" he asked. Her hand clamped around his throat. Her eyes, the psychotic gleam. She would kill him. Suddenly she shook her head. New images now. Carnivals and picnics with Father and Pietro. New sensations coursed through her. The smell of cotton candy, the crackle of fireworks. Happy times, happy Wanda. Happy Wanda.

"Toad, I. . .I'm sorry," she said as tears flowed from her eyes and she released her grip. She curled up into a ball. Tears mixed with cold rain. Tears and rain. _'Father, don't. . .'_

"Wanda," hissed Toad in her ear, "We gotta get outta here. It's not safe. C'mon, let's go home."

"Home," she replied in between ragged breaths. She looked back at what she'd done. She felt a small sense of retribution, redemption, revenge. That felt like it had been a long time in coming. Why? The building, it had been home once. No, it was never home.

"Can you make it?" asked Toad. Wanda let the rain wash everything away. She stood up and nodded, agreeing that it was time to go home. It was time to forget about this nightmare.

XXXXX

Pietro had been worried sick. He had stayed up later than usual to see Wanda when she came home, if she came home.

"Where in God's name have you been?" he asked as Wanda staggered through the door, soaking wet with Toad on her heels.

"Hell," she replied as she collapsed onto the couch. Pietro looked to Toad for further elaboration.

"She had to go find something," explained Toad, "Something she lost." Pietro's eyebrows arched. He turned back to Wanda. She was asleep and shivering from the cold. He grabbed a blanket in two seconds and put it over her.

"Happy birthday, sis," he whispered in her ear, "We'll talk about it tomorrow." Both he and Toad watched her sleep before they headed up the stairs.

XXXXX

Tired. She was so tired. She had a headache too. Wanda felt herself slide into sleep as she dreamt of happy times. No more nightmares. No more bars or cages or bad men. Just happy peaceful memories of her, Father, and Pietro.

_'Happy birthday to Wanda,'_ she thought as she drifted to sleep, _'Happy birthday to me.'_ When she woke up the next morning it all felt like nothing more than a bad dream.


End file.
